Page 27 of The Opposite of Romance
“I’m glad you could join me,” he says, with a low, gravelly voice.
I simply nod in response. The man, though lacking in basic etiquette, is truly mesmerizing. Thick hair, covered in grays, bone structure that could be a sculptor’s muse, broad shoulders covered in expensive fabric. Even his wrinkles look like they were painted on, somehow making him more attractive.
He pours me a glass of red wine, filling the roundest of the three crystal glasses in front of me.
“Oh, I don’t really drink red…” I start to say, but he interrupts.
“Try it. This Bordeaux is a work of art.” He quickly dismisses me.
I lift the glass carefully and take a small sip. It’s … red wine. Just like the ones I don’t like.
Still, I dip my head politely, showing my appreciation for it.
“Told you. Stick with me, and you will learn a thing or two.” He shoots me a sexy smirk, but his words rub me the wrong way.
They’re condescending. Sandy will be glad to know we have another trope covered—alpha hole. But no matter how fun they are in novels; his tone and demeanor do nothing for me.
“Hmm,” is the only thing that leaves my mouth, along with it pulling into a fake smile. I know, in my bones, that fighting him on this would be futile.
The server arrives, bringing two plates with barely any food on them. He introduces the meal in French, but I only recognize foiegras. I guess I’m not choosing my meal tonight, not that it comes as a surprise.
“So, Sadie, tell me about yourself.” Once again, his words aren’t a question, they are a demand.
“Oh, I’m divorced and have two amazing kids.” I smile, thinking about Asher and Olivia. “I’m also a romance author, which you already know.” Trying not to think too hard about it, I busy myself with cutting the foie gras.
“Yes. I find the themes in some of your books really interesting.” His eyes darken, boring into me, and a chill creeps over me.
“I wouldn’t peg you for a romance guy.” I try to break the tension.
“Oh, it’s not romance I’m talking about. Some of the scenes you write…” His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. “It’s refreshing to see a woman so in tune with her desires. I would love to recreate some of those scenes with you.”
My cheeks flush as I almost choke on the disgusting red wine. I shoot him a polite smile before breaking eye contact. My gaze falls to my plate, and I push the food around, trying to force myself to at least try it. I’m not much of a foodie, but I know parts of the world banned foie gras because of animal cruelty, which makes my stomach churn.
“Not hungry?” he asks.
“Not really, no.”
He snaps his fingers impolitely, and the server rushes to the table.
“We’re ready for the second course,” Leo tells him, not even looking at him.
Oh God, there’ll be more courses.
The entrée is a black truffle risotto, so at least no suffering animals. I pick the fork that looks appropriate and bring some risotto to my lips. The truffle taste is so pungent and overpowering, a wave of nausea hits me. I barely manage to keep it down. Seems like my sweet spot with French food is croissants.
Sipping my wine, I try to wash out the woody taste of the truffles, but the wine isn’t any good, either.
“Are you feeling ok?” he asks, and I do my best to put on a poker face.
“Yup. Inhaled some rice.”
“Good. I would hate for you to not be ready for what I have planned afterwards.” His lip curls in an attempt of a sexy smirk, but it makes my skin crawl.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not really feeling well.” I pat my mouth using the napkin, as if I consumed some food to wipe off.
“Look.” He pins me with his stare. “I know the conversation’s been somewhat dry, but I think we would really be a good fit sexually.” A shiver crawls up my spine. “I was trying to be a gentleman with this whole dinner thing.” He lifts his hands in surrender motion.
“Yes, thank you for that.” I sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t really feel it between us … sexually.” I add on a whisper. “So I think I better get going.”
